This Rosh Hashanah, please don’t wish me L’Shona Tova.
Please do not wish for me a sweet new year. I am blessed with the sweet kisses of my children every day while mothers fleeing war-torn homes are burying their babies in the streets. I am blessed with a sweet spouse who works to make me happy every day while these rights are being denied to our LGBTQIA friends. I am blessed with sweet tasting food on full plates every day while many people cannot even afford the basics.
Please do not wish for me a healthy new year. I have access to clean water while families in Flint, Michigan remain largely ignored. I have access to health insurance while families all over the country must wait on the whims of politicians who won’t be affected by their own choices. I have access to safe neighborhoods while families just twenty minutes away from me deal with crime and violence every day.
Please do not wish for me a prosperous new year. My home has not burned in wildfires. My place of business has not washed away in hurricanes.
Please do not wish for me a happy new year. I will be welcoming in 5778 tonight among family. Among friends.
And, please, do not offer me the opportunity to perform Tashlich. I wish to remain aware of my sins, my disgraces, my privileges. I do not wish to be forgiven; I wish to be reminded. I wish to remember every day that my sins, whether purposely committed or arbitrarily inherent, affect others and that it is up to me to spend the next year trying to make bring sweetness, wellbeing, prosperity, and happiness to others.
So this Rosh Hashanah, please don’t wish me L’Shona Tova. Wish it for others, instead.